Hope it's happy

Today is my best friend's birthday. This is the first time in 8 years I haven't made a big hairy deal of it. Of course, this is the first time in 8 years that we aren't talking on his birthday.

I do hope he's happy. I hope his family is making a fuss over him, as in years gone by he's felt a little neglected in that regard. I also hope he got the card I mailed on Sunday for a Monday AM pickup. (Monday - Wednesday/Chicago - Boulder sounds about right.)

He's 47 today. It's time he stop acting like an 8th grader. Usually when he sulks like this, I work hard to keep the lines of communication open. But not this time. I just don't feel like it anymore.

The Lads sing, "Pride can hurt you, too. Apologize." Only I'm feeling neither proud nor sorry. Just weary. I love him and honor in my heart all the wonderful things about him. That's why I sent the card (carefully chosen, actually; the front is a collection of pocket watches because I know how fascinated he is by timepieces). I do hope he has a happy birthday in every sense of the word.

I also hope he thanks me. But if not, well, it's his choice. I'm sad, but I'm good with this.